


Are You Sure The World Is Worth Saving?

by freephoebe



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Combat, Death, Demons, Gen, Grief, Loneliness, Magic, Misanthropy, Non-canon-slayers, Pre-Buffy, Sacrifice, Slayers, Watchers, Weapons, serious butt-kicking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3261734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freephoebe/pseuds/freephoebe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of a Slayer who came before Buffy. Does not correspond to the canon Slayer timeline, mostly because I didn't know about the timeline five years ago when I started writing. Wyndham Blackheath is an extremely skilled and talented Slayer who feels isolated from the world she is trying to save. A personal tragedy finally convinces her that humanity is going to destroy itself before demons ever can, and she decides to walk away from slaying forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was a warm and humid night in a sprawling, wealthy suburb of the capitol city. The windows of every house stood open and every fan was on, trying vainly to blow the heavy stickiness out of the air. One house sat glowing at the end of a cul-de-sac, pouring forth a festive light and cheerful party music. Guests were draped languidly about the patio, keeping perfectly still to combat the heat except to steadily sip their cold cocktails.

The upstairs rooms were dark and quiet while the party dragged on below through the oppressive summer night. A window facing the street slid suddenly and silently open, and the next moment a purple backpack appeared on the sill. It teetered precariously for several seconds and then fell with a soft thud to the ground below. Moments later its sudden appearance was duplicated by two dangling legs, a pair of arms, a torso, and a brown-haired head. These various parts straightened out and arranged themselves, through habit and deft maneuvering, into the shape of a girl.

Wyndham pushed her hair out of her face and steadied herself on the ledge. She paused where she sat and listened carefully, but the noise of the party carried on, oblivious to her movements. Then, with one hand gripping the window, she reached out and grasped the branch of an overhanging tree, swinging her body to meet it and shimmying down its length to the crotch of the tree. She twisted into position and took the rest of the way at a jump, landing in a heap next to her backpack. Hoisting it onto her shoulders and brushing herself off, Wyndham took one last glance at the sparkling house and made off down the street at a run, dark hair bouncing behind her.

She didn’t stop running until she turned the corner and the house was out of sight. She slowed to a fast walk, never stopping until she came to the edge of a cemetery. The cemetery was enormous and very old, populated with statues and tombs and mausoleums dating back several hundred years to the earliest settling of Virginia. Throwing her backpack down, Wyndham dug through its contents until she found a flashlight. Then she set out again, moving quickly but carefully among the headstones and looming marble shadows.

Suddenly she pulled up short and crouched behind a large gravestone. There it was again, a thumping and pounding noise coming from the other side of the sloping hill ahead. Wyndham shuddered as all the impossible monsters of childhood came rushing into her head, stirring up natural human fears of the dark and the unknown. The feeling of dread brought upon by a cemetery at night was something she had never felt but she suddenly understood what it meant. In this place where death was the norm it was the signs of life that were terrifying; unnatural movement and sound that defied expectation and made people tremble. Death itself was peaceful but the living among the dead were grotesque and out of place.

Even so, people have natural human reactions besides that of fear, and Wyndham’s curiosity gave her strength as she crouched behind the marble slab. Getting carefully to her feet she crawled noiselessly up the hill, keeping her body low to the ground as she cleared the breast of the slope and looked down on the scene below.

At first she saw nothing but a whirl of movement as her eyes accustomed themselves to seeing further through the blackness than the ground before her feet. Everything came into focus with an abrupt and devastating swiftness, leaping up before Wyndham’s view like a nightmarish circus act. Loping across the grass was a monstrous creature that swung itself on all fours like an enormous ape. Its body gleamed with the thick skin of a reptile and horns sprouted randomly and savagely from its back, head and hands. Halting its menacing gait, the creature arched its back and circled around a huddled form in the grass.

A moment later the crumpled mass exploded upward, catching the creature beneath its jaw and sending it hurtling backwards. Twisting expertly in the air, the form became a young woman who landed on her feet and ran straight at the fallen monster, striking it a blow to the side of the head that sent it tumbling once again. This time it recovered more quickly and when the girl attacked it caught her arm in its enormous paw and threw her savagely against a tree. It was a blow that should have killed the girl but a moment later she crawled painfully to her feet. She ducked the next swing of the giant arm and dove straight at the creature’s midsection, sending them both somersaulting among the graves. They wrestled for advantage but it soon became clear that in a contest of brute strength the girl was overmatched. After several moments of desperate struggle the creature pinned her arms to her side and her legs to the ground with each of its massive limbs. Then it threw back its head with a hideous howl, opening its cavernous mouth wide and prepared to bite off her head.

Though scarcely aware of it, Wyndham had been drawn down the hill toward the battle since first laying eyes on the girl. From the way she bared her teeth as she attacked, to the way she wiped a bloody nose on her t-shirt with a disdainful grimace, or flipped her hair at the monster as though daring it to come at her, Wyndham was enthralled. Even as a powerful feeling of unnaturalness from the monster hit her like a wave, she had scarcely a thought or glance to spare for that appalling apparition, so drawn was she to the equally powerful sense of goodness and strength emanating from the girl.

As the creature howled its cry of victory, Wyndham let out a scream of her own. “NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!” Without stopping to think she ran forward and threw her flashlight at the creature’s head with all her strength. It bounced harmlessly off the fearsome head, but the sudden noise and unexpected blow startled the monster into turning its head and loosening its grip on the girl. It was over in a moment. The girl ripped her legs free and kicked over her shoulder, catching the creature full in the face with the arch of her foot. As it stood reeling from the blow she leaped onto its back and twisted its head in her hands until the neck snapped.

Once dead, the body seemed to deflate, shriveling until it was nothing more than a pile of horns and a scaly mass of empty skin. Its killer landed awkwardly on top of these remains, unable to regain her feet before her foe withered away so suddenly. She climbed slowly to her feet, breathing heavily and massaging her limbs with little winces of pain as her fingers encountered sore spots and bruises.

Eventually the girl straightened herself up and looked at Wyndham. “Are…you okay?”

“Yes.”

“I…uh…here’s your flashlight.”

“Thank you.”

“I think it’s…broken. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I have another one.” Wyndham looked curiously at the girl, who stared nervously back.

“That was a monster,” Wyndham said finally.

The girl hesitated, then nodded.

“Are there more?”

“Yes. I mean, no. Not like this one. He’s one of a really nasty kind.”

“But there are other kinds?”

The girl looked uncomfortable. “Yea. There are plenty of other big bads out there, fresh from their personal corner of Hell, to wreak havoc and mayhem and see to it that humanity is constantly in some sort of apocalyptic danger.”

“What’s apocalyptic?”

The girl sighed resignedly. “Relating to the end of the world. The apocalypse.”

“Is the world going to end?”

“No! At least, not if I can help it. Not tonight anyway. Probably.”

“You fight monsters?”

“Yep. Monsters, demons, whatever you choose to call them. In all shapes, sizes, colors and degrees of sliminess.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m the Slayer,” she said quietly, and for a moment looked very old and sad. Then the girl gave a lopsided smile. “The Chosen One. The human races’ official kicker of demon butt.”

Wyndham was wide-eyed. “Wow.”

The girl grinned more broadly. “Thanks. It’s nice to be appreciated. What’s your name?”

“I’m Wyndham.”

“Wyndham.”

“It’s a family name,” she explained.

“I think it’s nice. Wyndham. I just wanted to say…I mean…thanks for saving my life.”

“It was just a flashlight,” Wyndham mumbled.

“I know.”

There was pause.

“You are kind of a nutcase though.”

“Why?”

“First of all, for being about eight years old and in a cemetery in the middle of the night. Second, for running the wrong way. When you see a demon like Monuak you run FROM it while screaming very loudly. You don’t run TOWARD it and throw your flashlight at its head.”

“Sorry,” said Wyndham contritely.

“No, I mean…don’t be _sorry_. It’s just, you’re kind of awesome, in a completely out-of-your-mind kind of way.”

“Are there vampires?” Wyndham demanded suddenly.

The girl looked startled. “Y-yes.”

“How come everyone thinks there aren’t?”

“Well, that’s _my_ job. When they come I kill them so that people can go on happily or otherwise living their lives without having to worry about hell beasts and bloodsuckers and the walking dead. I’m supposed to make sure that nobody knows about _them_ and nobody knows about _me_. Which is why I really shouldn’t be telling _you_ all this.”

“I sort of knew. I mean, once I saw the monster tonight.”

“What made you ask about vampires?”

Wyndham replied softly, “I like _Nosferatu_.”

“Aren’t you a little young for that movie? Your parents let you watch it?”

“They don’t really care what I do.”

“I see,” the girl replied, and she sounded like she did see. “So what _are_ you doing here in the cemetery in the middle of the night?”

“Nothing. I mean, I was just going through it cause it’s a long way to go around.” Wyndham hesitated. She was suspicious of telling a grown-up the truth, disdainful of the adult sense of responsibility that led them to meddle with good intentions in others’ private affairs. But this girl had told her the truth, while most adults lie to protect you from things they fear themselves. She had told her about demons and vampires, things that no one was supposed to know, so this girl she could tell. She deserved the truth. “I’m running away from home.”

The recipient of this information raised her eyebrows in surprise but said nothing at first. Then she nodded. “I think you’d better come with me.”

She looked down at the pile of remains with a grimace. “Grab the horns will you? I have to take this glob back to headquarters and burn it ritualistically while reciting funny words. If I don’t, Mr. Scaly Ape Guy comes back twice as strong, which is bad news for you and me but mostly me because I’d have to fight it and die which would totally suck.”

Wyndham nodded wordlessly. Together they gathered the pile of skin and horns and set out across the graveyard in a companionable silence.

“By the way,” the girl said suddenly, “my name is Brannwyn.”


	2. Chapter 2

Tucked loosely into a large bed with the covers thrown back, Wyndham was asleep in minutes in spite of the excitement of the day. Downstairs, Brannwyn sat sipping green tea across from an old man with a thick grey beard, whose bushy eyebrows were knotted in consternation.

“But I still don’t understand why you simply told her all these things. In doing so you may have put both she and yourself in very serious danger. I know that it’s unpleasant and often difficult to have to disguise the truth, but a part of your sacred duty is to conceal your own identity and the existence of the dark forces.”

“I’m telling you, I was so spun I barely knew where I was. It was _this_ close, Spencer. I was toast, about to be eviscerated by a snaky apey demon, when all of a sudden I hear a scream and this flashlight comes flying out of nowhere. When I get up I see this eight year old kid who starts firing off questions as cool as you please. And I’ll tell you one thing, she took the news a lot better than I did when you first showed up raving about vampires and demons.”  

“Children accept things more easily than do adults. Their ideas of the world have not yet grown so fixed and unyielding that they cannot believe the evidence of their own eyes. And I wasn’t _raving_ , I was telling you the simple truth. It was you who came rather close to throwing a fit as I recall.”

“Well you were all with the trenchcoat and the creepy . . . old guy thing. Not to mention that you set an Ek-Thos demon loose in my backyard!”

“Under controlled circumstances.”

“Tell that to my mother’s begonias.”

“I had to see how you would react. I needed an opportunity to examine the state of your strength and reflexes. You performed quite well for a beginner.”

“I beheaded it with a pair of hedge clippers, after which it oozed lime-colored guts all over my brand new shoes.”

“Yes, well, you were to be commended for your ingenuity. But all of this is beside the point. You’ve been training and fighting demons for more than two years now and you know the rules regarding civilians.”

“Yes, but you just said yourself, children believe the evidence of their own eyes! She saw that demon and there was nothing I could do about it. And even if I could I wouldn’t because if she hadn’t seen it I would be dead right now.”

“And what about bringing her back here? If she talks about this she could bring the demons straight to us. If it occurs to any of them that she could be a valuable source of information about the Slayer she could be in serious danger.”

Brannwyn looked alarmed but defiant. “Well how much safer would she have been wandering the streets of Washington D.C. all night? I couldn’t take her home because I had to bring Monuag back here in time to perform the ceremony. And besides she didn’t _want_ to go home. It’s not like I could force her.”

“What, defeating a horned and scaly demon is within your power but an eight year-old child is too much for you?” Spencer raised his bushy eyebrows ironically.

“You expect me to use Slayer strength to subdue a kid? I thought, silly me, that violence might not be the answer to this particular problem. I thought tact and a little understanding wouldn’t hurt…dammit, Spence, I _like_ the kid. She saved my life and I think it’ll be alright, honestly I do! I don’t think she’ll tell, I just have a feeling. Won’t you trust me pretty pleeeeeaase?”

Donald Spencer, sorely tried Watcher, heaved a sigh of surrender. “Very well, Brannwyn. Deal with the girl as you see fit. Now hadn’t you better be getting home?”

“I told my parents I might be spending the night with a friend. They’re not expecting me.”

“Good. It’s probably best that you stay as long as the girl is here. I’m going to retire presently but first I find myself very badly in need of a drink.”

“You know I could probably use-”

“Don’t even dream of it until you’re twenty-one, young lady.”

~

Wyndham sat at the breakfast table gazing at Brannwyn over a bowl of cereal and an English muffin.

“Do you want some juice or something?” Brannwyn asked. “There’s orange and cranberry in the fridge.”

“Cranberry please,” Wyndham said politely.

“Excellent choice. Spencer, being old and fuddy duddy-ish, always eats grape-nuts and café au lait for breakfast but I make sure he has some cranberry juice and Frosted Mini-Wheats on hand for emergencies.”

She filled a glass and pushed it across the table.

“Now the big question is what we’re going to do with you since you can’t really stay here with Spencer – not that you would want to anyway, I mean, the man watches British game-shows all day when he isn’t _cataloguing_ ancient whatsums – you get the picture. And coming home with me would require lots of explanations about graveyards and demons which would kinda blow my cover, so I don’t think we really have a whole lot of choice here about what -”

“Please don’t take me home,” Wyndham said quickly.

“Don’t you think your parents will be wondering where you are?” Brannwyn suggested gently. “We don’t want them to be worried.”

“They aren’t worried. They haven’t even noticed I’m gone yet. That’s why I can’t go home.”

“But they must have noticed that you weren’t in your room this morning, and that you didn’t come down for breakfast.”

“No they haven’t. And even if they have they probably just think I’m around somewhere.”

“Well that’s good, that means we can take you back before they start to get worried. They’ll probably be angry that you ran away but not as angry as they would be if you stayed away until they were really concerned.”

“I don’t care if they’re angry. I want them to be angry. At least they’d be noticing me if they were angry.”

Wyndham looked so determined that Brannwyn found herself at a loss. She knew of children who frustrated their parents, parents who embarrassed their children and even children who hated their parents, or thought they did. But a child who would run away from home for days just to get her parents to notice her was beyond Brannwyn’s experience. Her own parents were prone to being absentminded and easygoing about rules and responsibilities, but she knew they cared. She was tempted to believe that the same must be true for Wyndham, yet something in the girl’s voice and steady unblinking eyes told her how little she knew.

At that moment a crash from the study provided a welcome distraction. “A little help, please,” came Spencer’s muffled voice.

“I’ll be right back,” Brannwyn said quickly to Wyndham. “You can look around if you want. There’s mostly old stuff but some of the weapons are quite fun. Just don’t hurt yourself.”

Wyndham cleared her bowl and wandered obediently into the adjoining room, which was piled high with ancient books and artifacts, all emblazoned with pictures, etchings or carvings of terrifying demons. She opened several of the books but each was written in a language so foreign that even the alphabet was unfamiliar. She examined the weapons gingerly but most were too large and heavy for her even to pick up.

Eventually Wyndham picked her way to a small table next to the sofa. Amidst all of the dusty and faded relics, she was attracted by something shiny and smooth resting in a bed of satin cloth. As she drew closer it proved to be a small crystal orb no larger than a hen’s egg but perfectly round and ever so slightly pinkish in color. Slowly, she reached out her hand to touch it but as her fingers drew near the orb suddenly began to twinkle, and then to glow brightly pink. The glow started in the very center of the orb and spread at once throughout the entire sphere. For a few moments it simply sat there like a marvelous burning coal. Then, as Wyndam’s hand still lingered near it too startled and awestruck to move, it rose up off the satin folds and began to spin swiftly in mid-air. Moments later the whirling ceased and the orb shot blindingly powerful rays of light in every direction, illuminating the entire room with its burning pink.

Wyndham drew back with a yell, shielding her eyes from the light. The orb went out a once like a snuffed candle, plopping gently back onto the table and resting there innocently as though nothing had happened. The girl glanced guiltily at the doorway, only to find Brannwyn and Spencer standing there with open mouths. Brannwyn looked merely surprised, though very much so, but Spencer looked positively stunned.

“What was that?” Brannwyn demanded. “I thought that thing was just a conduit for a spell.”

Spencer found his voice with difficulty. “It is, essentially. But the orb has mystical properties of its own, quite apart from the spell, which are exactly what make it so useful for that particular act of magic. It can point the way to certain kinds of mystical energies and powers through a guiding spell but it can also recognize them on its own, and will act…well…exactly how it just acted…when it comes into close contact with them.”

“But…does that mean that she’s one of them? One of the ones you’ve been looking for?”

“Yes, I’m afraid it does.”

“Well that’s not bad! Is that bad?”

“No, no. No of course it’s not bad! Of course it’s not. In fact, it just might be…”

“So what do we do?”

“We shall have to call the Council immediately. Yes, yes I must call them at once. There’s no time to lose, a moment wasted could mean…that is to say…well there it is.” Spencer ceased abruptly.

Brannwyn looked at him curiously. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes quite alright.”

“Well then, what happens to her in the mean time?”

They both turned guiltily towards Wyndham, remembering her presence for the first time. She was looking at them curiously with her usual wide-open gaze, glancing back and forth between them while registering neither surprise nor alarm.

“What am I one of?”

“Well, they…you…don’t really have an official name I’m afraid,” Spencer said distractedly. “We’ve always just referred to them as sort of…pre-chosen ones, or potentials, or-”

“Or Slayerettes,” Brannwyn interjected.

“Er…yes. I can’t say that I’ve ever heard that particular term before; nevertheless, it does get the basic point across. You see, in addition to the Slayer there exist in the world a number of girls in every generation with the potential to become the next Slayer whenever the current one…dies. They are very few in number, and appear to be perfectly normal girls in every respect; as indeed they are except for a sort of supernatural birthmark, a touch of mystical power that surrounds them constantly. Most of them will live out their lives in a perfectly normal way and die of old age, but every so often a new one will be chosen and imbued with the powers of the Slayer.”

“Oh,” said Wyndham.

“Quite,” said Spencer.

“Well,” said Brannwyn.

“So it seems that you are one of these girls. In fact, it’s quite certain. These orbs are extremely rare and most are in the possession of the Watcher’s Council to be used in performing a spell to identify the potential Slayers. This was one of the last ones unaccounted for, I just received it from a…er… _very_ private collector.”

“So what do we do now?” demanded Brannwyn.

“Well we certainly can’t return Wyndham to her parents until we have… er…explored this situation further. I must get on the telephone immediately with England to inform them of this discovery and learn what course of action they advise. In the meantime…perhaps if you just went down the street to a movie it wouldn’t be too…well…yes.”

Brannwyn raised her eyebrows. “Soooooooo…a movie then?”

“Er, yes. Right then. A movie.”

“Sounds like a Wyn-Wyn situation to me,” said Brannwyn cheerfully.

Spencer looked at her blankly. “What?”

“Nothing. Bad joke.” Brannwyn winked at Wyndham and headed sheepishly towards the door.

~

“So what did you think?”

“It was really good, but maybe not as good as the first two. The whole first part was cool but the little furry guys on the moon of Endor were kinda silly.”

“Yea, they were a little pointless. Cute though. I thought the whole unfinished death star looked really rad. And Jabba the Hutt was totally gross looking. He was a really good villain.”

“It was sad when Yoda died. I was really sad when Obi-wan Kenobi died in the first movie. But I guess nobody really dies there anyway. They just become blue ghosty people, part of the Force or something.”

“How do you even remember the first movie? You were what, five?”

“Six! And I have it on videotape.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Is it boring for you to watch action movies and stuff?” Wyndham wondered. “Cause you sorta do that stuff all the time, right?”

“Yea, but Star Wars has the Force. Nothing is cooler than the Force. It would be totally awesome if I could like send demons flying through the air and stuff using just the power of my mind, or use Jedi mind tricks to make them do my bidding.” Brannwyn waved her hand dramatically. “You WILL stop eating the hearts of human babies.”

Wyndham nodded sympathetically. “That would be pretty awesome.”

“I guess I’ll have to settle for Slayer strength instead.”

“How strong is Slayer strength? Like for real. Can you bend steel bars and tear telephone books in half?”

“Somebody watches way too may Saturday morning serials. And I think that someone is you.”

“Well can you?”

“I have no idea. I’ve never _tried_ to tear a telephone book in half. I mean, who does that?”

“Not even just to see if you could?”

“I did bend a bar in half once. My mom’s fireplace poker actually. That didn’t go over too well. Not that she could figure out how I did it.”

Spencer came hurrying out of the house to meet them. “I must talk to both of you at once.”

“What’s up, Spence?” Brannwyn queried when the three of them were seated in the living room.

“In short, all of us – but especially the two of you – could be in very serious danger.”

“So much for my day off.”

“Brannwyn, please! This is not a joking matter. I have been on the phone with the Watcher’s Council and they have informed me that our incident this morning could have some serious repercussions. You see, the mystical powers centered in that orb are only meant to be released under very controlled circumstances, in an isolated area protected by shielding spells. Without these precautions the tremendous potency of the orb will send…has sent…powerful waves of mystical energy shooting out in all directions over a very large distance. While these waves go completely unnoticed by humanity, the demon world is certain to sense them like the aftershocks of an earthquake. Brannwyn, you know as well as I do how the Underworld is attracted to power. As soon as night falls this place will draw them out from every foul crack. _They must not find us here."_

“Ay ay. Preparing to run the hell away, _sir._ ”

Spencer turned to Wyndham. “You would be safe if you returned home at once. At least, for the time being. However, the Head of the Council feels very strongly that nothing happens without a reason, and in this instance I agree will him. It has been a truly remarkable coincidence how your identity was revealed to us. The Council feels that this could well have been orchestrated with a purpose, to give us the opportunity to protect you from any threat from the demon world. Potential Slayers have been discovered by dark forces before, and their fates have been truly horrible.”

“Jeez, Spencer, don’t terrify the kid!”

“I have to prepare her!” Spencer took a deep breath. “The three of us must leave here at once. Brannwyn, would you mind taking the bags from the living room and loading them into my car as quickly as possible? I need to speak to Wyndham for a moment.”

Brannwyn looked from one of them to the other, nodded, and hurried out of the room. Spencer led Wyndham into the kitchen and sat her at the table, where a half-finished glass of cranberry juice was still sitting.

“Wyndham,” he began slowly, “what makes your position, and the position of any Potential, so vulnerable is that you’re still a normal girl. You have no means of protecting yourselves. The Council is prepared to offer you its highest degree of protection.” He paused. “It is also prepared to offer you training.”

“You mean…”

“Training in the ways of a Slayer. History, demonology, weaponry, combat skills.”

“Would I still go to school?”

“Not as you do now. You would be tutored privately in all the formal subjects.”

“And…would I have to leave…home…I mean, my parents?”

“Yes I’m afraid you would.”

“Oh.” There was silence for a moment.

Spencer cleared his throat and pressed on. “It is not, of course, by any means certain that you would end up using this training. No one knows exactly how many other Potentials there are out there in the world in addition to you. It may be thousands. As of yet, none of the Council’s resources have been able to predict who among those Potentials will ultimately be chosen to become the Slayer. In fact, it is probably for the best that the means of discovering it remain elusive, for what the Watcher’s Council can discover malevolent forces may also. It could be any one of you. So it is very possible, even probable, that those years of training and studying could be to no real purpose. But if you were to be chosen…”

Spencer hesitated and the girl stared at him wordlessly. “Slayers die young, Wyndham,” he said suddenly. “You are very young, but I want you to know that because if you are chosen some day your fate will be unavoidable. It’s not an idea you ever really get used to – your own death. But the longer you have to prepare for it the more bravely you may be able to face it.”

Wyndham continued to gaze at him, wide-eyed but by no means frightened. He continued hurriedly. “What we can do is to prepare you as best we can for that possibility. Usually, Slayers receive no training prior to the day they are chosen. With years of training you could truly have the chance to master those powers, and perhaps prolong your own life considerably.”

Wyndham just stared back at Spencer, her body straight and tense. “If I become the Slayer,” she asked suddenly, “will that mean Brannwyn is dead?”

Spencer answered truthfully. “Yes, Wyndham, a new Slayer is chosen when the old one dies.”

“I want to be like her,” the girl said softly. “But not if it means she has to die.”

“She has to die whether you take this chance or not, Wyndham, and whether or not you ever become the Slayer,” Spencer said shortly. “It’s her destiny.”

Suddenly they both looked up, and Brannwyn was standing bright-eyed in the doorway. She had the same look on her face as when she had first told Wyndham she was the Slayer – sad and very old, as though generations of Slayers who had given their lives for humanity were staring out of her eyes. “Do it, Wyndham,” she said quietly, after a long silence. “It won’t be so hard…later on…if you start now.”

“Could I stay with the two of you?” Wyndham asked hopefully.

Spencer shook his head. “I’m afraid not. The Council would select a new Watcher for you, and you’d be taken somewhere far from here to live and train where we can use all our powers to protect you.”

“That thing…you said it saw power in me. But I don’t have any power.” She looked at Brannwyn.”

“It’s there, even if you can’t feel it.”

The two girls looked hard at each other. “I’m scared,” the child said, her voice quivering for the first time and fear creeping for a moment into her wide-eyed face.

Brannwyn looked at her steadily. “You can’t be scared anymore, Wyndham. You have to be ready. You’re the one.”

“Brannwyn!” Spencer protested.

“When I die – ”

“You can’t possibly – ”

“I know it’s true, Spence! Don’t ask me how I know, but I’ve never been more certain of anything. You’re the one, Wyndham, and when I die you’ll be there to take over for me. You have to be ready.”

Wyndham nodded slowly, and the two girls continued to stare at each other. There was silence in the kitchen.


End file.
